An Old Fashioned Girl
by TenTenD
Summary: In the midst of a bloody war, the turbulence of great social change affects the until-then quiet life of unassuming Clarissa Vyie, Naively, she joins the war effort, hoping to make the world a little better, unknowing that her effort is but a drop in the ocean. But sometimes, a drop in the ocean is just what's needed.


_**A/N: Okay, so I've thought long and hard about this and decided in the end to give it a shot. I've watched the movie and read the book (a long, long time ago), so most of the story will make reference to the movie. That being said, the story presumes that we've moved a little further into the war, in 1915 to be more exact. There will be some vague references to history, but it'll be in no way accurate. This is written just for fun. All recognisable characters do not belong to me and of course I am not making even a penny off of this.** _

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Lissie unravelled the yarn deftly, looking up towards the door as her mother entered. "It's horrible," the woman declared, her wan face more bloodless than ever before. "Oh, Lissie, your sister has gone and done it again." The tremulous voice did not stop there. "She is not in her room."

"Oh dear," Clarissa murmured, sitting up from her comfortable position. "Perhaps she had gone to Mrs. Pomwell, mother. You know how she likes those ribbons in the shop." Although, with the war still raging, one should think there would not be enough material to produce such fripperies. "Shall we look there?" And hope to God her sister had, in fact, gone to Mrs. Pomwell's and not on some other adventure that was sure to cement her position as the black sheep of the family.

Olivia came running in from the other room, her skirts up to her knees, much to their mother's annoyance who at once began to admonish the girl. "For Heaven's sake, girl! Are you a savage, running around with your skirts like that?" The youngest sister had the grace to blush and press her skirts down with a slight grimace. "That's better."

"But mother," she complained nonetheless, "look what I found in Pam's room." She held out a small stack of white feather. The shriek which came from their mother would have made both the girls laugh any other day. As it was, however, the oldest was too shocked to do so and the youngest knew she was not supposed to do so.

"So much for her being at Mrs. Pomwell's," Lissie said after a few moments in which their mother had found her way to the chaise to lie upon it.

"She will ruin us," Matilda Vyie predicted, crossing her arms over her chest. "Oh girls! If only your father were here." The fact remained that father was not there and they would have to make do without him. Lissie nodded towards Olivia who stepped closer to mother to support her up. "Where have I gone wrong that she would go and do something so horrid?"

With such thought Mrs. Vyie filled the silence. Lissie, on the other hand, had already walked to the other end of the room and picked her shawl up. "Never you trouble yourself, mother. I will find her and bring her back. And then we shall have a talk."

Matilda, thankful to have a rescuer in her hour of need, simply nodded her head, remaining on the chaise with the youngest daughter of the family. "Try to be back quickly, my dear. The weather will spoil soon enough." Such was the English weather, so one was always prepared for it to spoil. Lissie shrugged and opened the door just as cook scrambled past her into the kitchens, muttering something about beating eggs.

Despite having said that she would bring Pamela back, Lissie did not rightly know where to find her younger sister. She could be in any number of places and might be even in some which Lissie herself had never been to. It was all because of those friends of hers and Mrs. Pankhurst on the radio. Deplorable, truly. Clutching her shawl tighter, she made her way down the road, to the tramline. How she missed the countryside with its sprawling fields and hills. The town had its attractions, but to be stuck within it for so long was almost unbearable. Nonetheless, father was fighting and they needed the money. Renting their countryside home was the only viable alternative.

She bought herself a ticket for the line and was about to join the small crowd gathered to wait for the arrival of the tram when she spotted one of her sister's companions. Jenny Featherton waved at her form the other side of the road and Lissie, hoping she might know where Pam was, walked her way. "Jenny, out fro a stroll?" She could well see it was not the case, for Jenny too had a cluster of feathers in a pocket.

"Out doing good work," Jenny corrected her with an indulgent smile. "I'll be just a moment," she excused herself. "I see duty calls again." With a giggle, she made her way past an old woman and her groceries, only to reach a tall man who was looking slightly disoriented. She grabbed at his sleeve and said something to him which Lissie could not catch.

Then she saw Jenny pluck out a feather from her pocket and hold it out towards him. The man stared down at the offering and then back into Jenny's face. Has Lissie blinked, she would have missed the way his whole visage closed off in that moment. It was like a wall of bricks. With a whip-fast movement, he struck Jenny across the face, making her recoil. His words, by contrast were clear for all to hear. "Certainly, madam, I'll take the feather back with me. A man cannot walk in civvies now, for fear of being accosted in such disgraceful manner?" A few muted snorts could be heard from the people around them. And to think her own sister was exposing herself to similar shameful behaviour. Lissie could only shake her head. "Stupid girl."

The man looked up and at her, finding her through the crowd with startling accuracy. His face kept its iron cast even as his eyes searched her face. Lissie schooled her features into a mask of perfect neutrality. Jenny had in the meantime pulled away and disappeared into the crowd. Lissie's eyes remained pinned to the stranger who had mounted an attack of his own against the insurmountable silliness that was the white feather campaign.

The tram pulled into the station and an outpour of humanity drifted past its doors into the streets. Lissie lost sight of the man and turned her head around just as Pamela spotted her. Catching sight of the feathers she clutched in her hand, something akin to anger stole over Lissie. She stomped her way to her sister through the crowd and caught her by the wrist. "Where have you been? Mother's been worried sick."

Pam snorted. "Leave off. I was doing my duty to country and king," she told the elder sister. "See, I gave away no less than a dozen feathers today." Upon hearing the ease with which her sister commented upon such monstrous behaviour, Lissie could not endure it any longer. She stole the feather out of her sister's hand and despite the strong protests, threw them to the ground and stepped upon then viciously.

"How dare you?" she demanded of the younger girl, grabbing her wrist once more, Despite being the eldest, she still stood half a head shorter than Pamela. They made a strange sight, standing here in the streets, bickering. "Have you no consideration? No brain in that head of yours?"

When attacked in such a manner, Pam flushed with indignation and tried to pull away. But anger gave Lissie enough strength to drag her sister a few steps before she could retaliate and by the time she could they were already on the sidewalk and someone was grabbing her shoulder.

Lissie's head whipped around to give whoever it was a piece of her own mind, or rather tell them to mind their business. Arrested by a pair of blue eyes, she could feel her lips move but no sounds came. It was the man Jenny had tried to hand a feather to. "You've dropped this," he said, holding something out towards her. Lissie looked down at what he offered. Her shawl.

"Dear me, I thank you." She would not have even noticed it was gone had he not retrieved it for her. Letting go of her sister's hand, she took the shawl from his, their fingertips touching in the process. Once the garment was safely in her position, Lissie placed it around her shoulders and replied with a smile to his nod.

And with that he was gone a second time. It struck Lissie that she had missed a cue. As always. With a shrug, she turned to look at her sister who was still staring sullenly at her. "Just you wait until we get home. There is much to talk about." There were times when she could not believe that they were related.

To be sure, it was not so much a matter of one being taller and lighter in colouring and the other opposite, but the nature of them. Pamela could be so brash and unthinking, to the point where she might have been in Jenny's place. Mother would have never forgiven such behaviour. Father would have likely taken her over his knee. Alas, father was somewhere on the front. Because of a white feather no less. That her own sister would insensibly go around spreading even more misery was simply unthinkable. It was like she could not understand that she was producing suffering for others.

"What if I don't want to talk?" Their father's daughter, indeed. Lissie pinned her with a hard look. Those two shared the same obstinacy.

"You will talk," she assured her younger sister as they made their way home. The walk was shorter, it seemed to Lissie, and her heart just a bit heavier than before. A dozen men. That was the number of people her sister had presented with a cursed white feather. A dozen men who were fathers, brothers, husbands and sons. A dozen mourning families, and all could place blame on her sister. Did she ever pause to think her actions through?

It was Olivia who opened the door. "Come quick. Sophia is here," she told the other two. "Lissie, what in God's name happened to your shawl? It looks as if it's been through a war."

She supposed it was a bit dusty. Lissie had not looked at it with great attention. Clearing her throat, she took it off and hanged it with the other clothes. "Not a war veteran this one. Maybe a skirmish. That would work."

Mother came out into the hall as well. "There you are." She tsked at the two of them. "Come on then, we haven't all day."

Following the older woman in the room where their other sister sat, they fully expected their sister and her sons would greet them as they usually did. Instead, Sophia was seated in one of the chairs, drying her eyes with a bit of lacy material. Heart dropping in the pit of her stomach, Lissie could guess what had brought her by. Without a second thought she ran to the eldest sister and hugged her tightly. "I am so sorry, Sophia." Sophia sobbed even harder at that, managing somewhat brokenly to let her know exactly where it was that her husband's body had been left.

"He won't even have a proper burial," she continued, hugging Lissie back. "Teddy and Sean won't ever know they father. And what will I do?" She didn't know what to say. Theodore and Sean Henley were two sweet boys who had just lost their father. What did none say to that?

"You will carry on," mother cut in. "Just like Grant would have wanted you to." There were times when she could show extreme backbone. Times of crisis, that was, when even she hardened herself. "In the meantime, you can bring Teddy and Sean here and move in the spare room. We could rent your apartment. God knows we need the money."

Sophia was nodding her head, the dejected look her face not easing for even a fraction of a moment. The voices fell away as Lissie considered their predicament. She let go of Sophia and moved back, her mind already working through possibilities. She caught bits of the conversation as it drifted past her and nodded once when she was addressed. Maybe she should accept Florence's offer. The pay would not be much, but she could still find something to do besides which would bring more money in. She was certain of it.

"Well, Lissie, would you mind terribly?" mother asked her.

"Pardon?" Blimey, she had no idea whatsoever what the woman spoke of.

"Do you mind having Teddy and Sean sleep in your bed until we can arrange the other room? What is it with you today?" Matilda eyed her daughter with curiosity.

"Not at all. Of course they may sleep in my bed. I will just share with Olivia."

* * *

"It is just as well," commented Florence, "we always need more hands." She handed Lissie the small white cap and then secured the knot of the apron she'd previously made. "Now it's quiet, but any day now more wounded will be arriving. The nurses with more experience will do the hard work, and you must carry the water, ointments, scalpels and scissors and whatever else they might need. Move quick and all will be well. But for now, patrol the second ward and make sure our patients have what they need."

"I understand," Lissie said, nodding to strengthen the impression. If all went well, she could probably call Pamela or Olivia here as well. Florence sent her on her way, with a vague sketch of the facility to help her find her way to the ward.

Being the second ward meant it housed quite the number of soldiers. Most of them were bedridden, with severe enough wounds to make one weep. Others could stand, but not walk. Once they were better, they'd be transferred to another ward from where they'd be sent home if all went well.

Lissie found the ward after a few minutes of looking. Rows and rows of beds stretched out before her. She looked at the first bed on the right. It was unoccupied, so her eyes moved to another bed in which a middle aged man sat, his back against a pillow. He turned his head slightly to look at her. Half his face had been scratched until a thick crust appeared, deforming his features. Holding back her natural reaction, Lissie approached his bedside and leaned in slightly. "Do you need anything, mister?" Her question was met with a low off-key hum. She recognised the tune of a lullaby. "Mister?"

"It's no good, miss," the man two beds over spoke over a sleeping comrade. "That one's long gone, if you catch my meaning. Poor man." He too was sitting up, a book in his hands. "Give him some water to drink and feed him when mealtime comes and it'll be fine."

She nodded, feeling herself blush. Her patients knew her job better than she did. She poured half a glass of water for the man and helped him drink it. Then she moved past the sleeping man to the soldier who had spoken to her. "And you? Would you like anything?"

He shook his head and offered her a gentle smile, signalling that she could pass on. Lissie wasted no time in doing so, going from bed to bed and doing what she could to ease the pain of these men. The last bed she reached was different. She looked at the man chained to it and unease came over her. She looked over her shoulder to another nurse making her rounds. "Why is he chained?" The ma slept so she would not get to ask him much.

"He's one of those Fritz," Elisabeth Becker told her, a look of slight disgust on her face. "You don't ne4ed to see to his comfort." Chaining him seemed to harsh though. It was not as if the man could run anywhere. Lissie looked at him once more as Elisabeth told her how he'd come to be in their facility.

They were supposed to care for all the wounded. Silently, she made up her mind that she would see to his comfort just as she did to those of other men in her ward. Having done what she ought to, Lissie seated herself in a chair near the entrance. From her vantage position she could keep an eye on all the wounded.

At noontime one of the doctors came by. He spoke to a few of the patients, including the one reading his book. Lissie caught him nodding towards her and she saw the doctor look as well. Confused, she tensed slightly as the man stood up and began walking towards her.

"You are new here, right?" a man in his mid fifties, his tag read simply Osser. Lissie nodded. "Then we should introduce ourselves. I am John Osser, miss."

"My name is Clarissa Vyie." She held her hand out and he shook it without a moment'\s hesitation. "I will do my best, doctor, to be of service."

He laughed softly, the wrinkles around his mouth deepening. "I am certain that will be the case. And if so, young Captain Nicholls has a request to make." He pointed out the man with the book.

Lissie immediately stood to her feet and walked to the bed, leaning over slightly. "What can I do for you?"

"A friend of mine is coming to see me. I was wondering if another chair could be found for him, you see, as the ones here are all occupied." She was about to straighten when he continued. "And I would like some more water."

"Of course. Wait but a moment." The water was much easier to produce than the chair. She brought him a pitcher of fresh water and then began her search for a chair. She looked high and low, even going to the first ward. To no avail. It was phenomenal how something could be entirely inexistent when one needed it. Knowing she had little recourse, Lissie simply told herself she would give up her chair when the visitor came.

With that in mind she returned to her ward and found the German had woken up as well. She approached his bed cautiously, grabbed the water glass and held it before his face. "Would you like some?" she spoke slowly, wondering if he could understand.

The man nodded, not offering any words. So she helped him down some of the water until he pulled back. She placed the glass back from where she'd taken it and went to the man with the scarred face. He was served in similar manner, until she was satisfied that he needed no more. Lissie surveyed her surrounding before returning to drag the man's covering higher.

The sound of footfalls coming from the hallway made her look up. The first thing she noticed was that the shoes the visitor who had come wore were of high quality. The came he used was made of dark lacquered wood and his trousers looked like they had cost him a fortune. She lifted her eyes until she reached his face.

She recognised him instantly.

He not so much. Passing her by, she stopped by the bed of her book-reading friend and she hurried off to bring him the chair. "Really, Jim," the man commented as he caught sight of her arrival, "there was no need to. I can stand very well, as you can see."

"On that leg, I don't think so," Jim answered. "Don't be obstinate, Jaime, not when she went through the trouble of producing a chair for you."

Disappointment swelled within her, but Lissie pushed it back and smiled. "Please, have a seat."

She saw him tense and instinctively retreated as he turned fully towards her. "Come again, miss." When she failed to follow what sounded like an order indeed, he tried another approach. "Your voice seems familiar, have we met before?"

Was he perhaps blind? Lissie nodded her head, a bit too surprised to consider he might not notice. "I believe you returned me my shawl a few days past." She cleared her throat. Maybe he returned the shawls of all the women he met.

"My apologies," he said after a moment of consideration. "Could you take a step back?" Startled she did as he said, feeling oddly hurt. "All better," he said. "I do recognise you, madam." He nodded jerkily towards her. He turned to his friend. "I am ashamed to say she did not see me at my very best."

"What have you done, Jaime?" Jim questioned, amusement clear in his voice.

"Not at all," Lissie jumped in before she could think better on it. "I would say that what you've done is very brave indeed." The man looked at her once again. In order to shield herself from his gaze, she glanced at the other man. "He was handed a white feather in full view of a whole street. And his response was absolutely brilliant."

"You do not share the general enthusiasm for handing out such trinkets?" She knew she should not feel offended, not when so many young women had taken to doing it, but still her pride was prickled. Instead she shook her head.

"Any man shamed into service is not a volunteer. Those who want to join the army will do so on their own terms." His nod of agreement warmed her. Knowing that she should not linger any longer, she returned her attention to the man sitting in bed. "That would be all, yes?"

"Of course." His smile, a half-curl of the lips was infectious. But her role was at an end, so she retreated back to her previous spot. Soon enough it would come time to feed them. She needed to conserve her strength and not allow herself to be distracted by the stranger whose full name she still did not know. His friend had called him Jaime. She's forever think of him as Jaime.

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 _ **A/N: Well, I hope this was an ok beginning. See you next time. :)** _


End file.
